A/N Haha, don't judge me for not updating on Saturday! I have been working on this for a long time, but I had a free evening out of a blue and this was the result! Sorry if this jumps around a lot or doesn't make sense...
Anyway, I hope that you enjoy it and if you have any ideas, I am accepting NEW PROMPTS for this story! (or if by chance you submitted a prompt and I didn't get to it before, please remind me. Coming back into Fanfiction life was hectic and I discovered that I couldn't understand my own notes). It could be as much as one word, an idea, or thought... Shoot and I will do what I can with it.
Our Darkest Hour
"My Lord…" Thranduil didn't turn, keeping his back to the door. "My Lord," Galion tried again but Thranduil didn't stir. "Lord Elrond and his embassy of Imladris elves are here. And—" He stopped, staring at his King's back. Glancing back at the closed door behind him, his gaze lingered momentarily on the plate of untouched food sitting on the desk. Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back. "Lord Elrond requested entry, may I send him in?"
When Thranduil didn't respond, Galion tried once more only to have to be met with the same cold shoulder. Shaking his head, he backed out the door. Elrond stood on the other side, waiting patiently. Glorfindel stood next to him, his arms folded tightly across his chest with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Where did Lady Celebraín go?" Galion asked tiredly, looking around.
"She took the children out for a walk in the gardens to stretch their muscles and—"
"— and get rid of some that inexhaustible energy that those three have. They are worse than hobbit children after eating dessert early!" The three elves turned in surprise to see Gandalf standing in the entryway.
"What's a…a hobbit?" Galion asked in confusion and Glorfindel shrugged. Gandalf muttered something under his breath, his staff clicking against the tile as he marched towards them.
"I came as soon as I heard the news," he grunted, stopping next to them and leaning heavily upon his staff. "How is Thranduil?"
Galion shook his head. "He will not eat and I do not think that he has slept. He— I fear that his will to remain here in Middle-earth will not last long."
Gandalf shook his head. "We cannot allow that to happen. Come along!" he called over his shoulder to Elrond and Glorfindel. He stopped just before opening the door. "Galion, do not despair. I do not see it to be Thranduil's future to fade." Galion nodded hesitantly, backing away from the door and bowing his head towards the old and battered wizard.
Flinging the door open, Gandalf strode in and Elrond and Glorfindel followed him into battle without a second glance back, their heads held high.
"Thranduil," Gandalf's voice was soft, as they threaded their way into the sitting room, where they found Thranduil. The king was leaning against his balcony, his stance rigid.
"Thranduil?" Elrond asked as well, stepping forward next to Gandalf. "Thranduil we would like to speak to you." The king remained frozen. "Thranduil, please," he pleaded softly.
"Who gave you permission to enter," the king said dully, not turning to look.
"I did!" Gandalf grunted. "Your friends are worried about you, Thranduil."
Glorfindel jumped in quickly. "And we came to mourn with you. We are— we are so sorry for your loss." His tone dropped to a whisper, his head bowing in respect. "We owe it to her to be here. She—" he broke off and Elrond picked it up.
"She will be missed by more than Greenwood."
Thranduil had frozen again and the three shared worried looks.
"If you would have been here a week ago, she might not have died," Thranduil's voice was raw as he whipped around. "You could have saved here!" His face was gaunt, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and his finger trembled as he directed it in Elrond's direction. "You call yourself a master of lore in healing, yet she died in my arms. You could have stopped it all!"
Elrond didn't budge as the King strode towards him. "From what we heard nothing could have been done," he countered, keeping his voice low and mild. "But I would have done what I could. We came as soon as word reached us." Thranduil scoffed, swearing as he turned away. He ran a hand over his face to cover what sounded like a sob.
Glorfindel took a step forward, touching Thranduil's shoulder gently. The king jerked away.
"Leave me in peace to mourn my dead." Crossing back to the window, he leaned forward against the marble.
"Believe it or not, but we all know what you are going through," Gandalf stated, his voice dropping. Something flickered in his eyes and for a moment he appeared lost in old memories.
"And pain does heal," Elrond crossed his arms, watching Thranduil. "Trust me, I've been through what—"
Thranduil barked a laugh. "You know nothing! All of you know nothing! She was my whole world. When her heart stopped beating, so did mine." He bent further over the marble, his hands gripping the stone so tight that his fingers turned white. "I've lost my father. My mother sailed west and my in-laws will do the same." His voice cracked and he stopped, waving a hand towards the door in a silent invitation to leave.
"What of the boy?" Gandalf asked, leaning wearily upon his staff. "What of Legolas? Will you not stay for him?"
It took a long moment for Thranduil to respond, his hands clenching and unclenching. "You do not see me making preparations to sail, do you?"
Elrond took a deep breath, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Where is Legolas?" he asked softly.
Thranduil shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted, hunching further into himself. "I…He—"Thranduil paused before turning on them once more. "Leave me!" He snapped a hand towards the direction of the door. "Leave me in peace! I do not wish to have your sympathy."
"But—" Glorfindel stepped forward and Thranduil rounded on him.
"I said leave! I wish to mourn my wife in peace! Everything else has been taken from me so why not take that too! All of you, you don't know anything! You don't—" His face had transformed, his lips curling up in a snarl and his eyes narrow slits of fury. With a cry of frustration, he twisted and grabbed the nearest glass tumbler. Flinging it hard against the wall, it shattered into a thousand different pieces.
The crash seemed to startle Thranduil and the fury fled his face.
"Leave me," the king finally requested dully. He turned back to the window and refused to acknowledge their presence any longer. Gandalf frowned, sharing looks of what could only be described as sadness with the others.
"Thranduil," he said gently. "I will miss her more than you know. Not only was she the only one who could tame your foolishness, but she always had a kind word for a weary wanderer. Think of her, think of her child that she left you before you let grief steal you away."
He turned back to the door, the other two turned to follow.
"Imladris will support you. As will I, my friend," Elrond ventured as he held the door open for Glorfindel, but the old warrior had paused.
"I know of loss, Thranduil," the Balrog-slayer tried again, his voice straining. "I know that right now it seems like this is the end of everything you have ever known, and it is. But the future is brighter then you could ever imagine right now. Don't give up hope."
With that, they left the king.
OURDARKESTHOUR
Celebraín gripped Arwen's small hand in her own, moving forward into the royal gardens of Greenwood the Great. Arwen fidgeted, her dark hair floating out in the light breeze.
"Nana, look, a butterfly!" she giggled, trying to tug her hand free long enough to be able to go running after the bug but Celebraín tightened her grip.
"Not right now, little one. Elrohir! If you touch that then when we get back I will put you in your room for the next month!" she added over her shoulder. Elrohir instantly retracted his hand from the rather delicate looking statute.
"I hate it when she does that," he muttered and Elladan nodded, rolling his eyes.
"It's so—"
"And don't you dare roll your eyes at me, Elladan!"
Coming to halt, they gazed with amazement at their mother's back.
"How does she do that?" Elladan mouthed. Elrohir could only shake his head. Arwen turned, sticking her tongue out at her brothers.
"NANA! Arwen just stuck her tongue out at me!" Elrohir cried, running up to justify his complaint.
"Hush, Elrohir." Celebraín gave him a glare and he fell into a moody silence after a muttered,
"But she did!"
They rounded the corner and found themselves in a large, open area. Benches were placed in various places, allowing the visitor to enjoy the trees and flowers that surrounded them. Arwen let out a squeal of delight, catching sight of a magnificent red bird that was perched atop a tree. Slipping free, she began to run as fast as her small legs could carry her and with loud whoops, the twins followed. Celebraín watched them for a moment, teetering forward onto the balls of her feet in anticipation of giving chase. Her children stopped at the edge of the tree, their mouths dropping open as they stared up.
Celebraín relaxed and moved to sit on one of the benches when someone else caught her eye. She had thought they were alone in the royal gardens, and for a moment a spark of fear filled her heart. And then the bright sun caught on the golden hair and the fear changed to sadness. Glancing back at her children, she watched them laugh with delight at the red animal that was chirping softly.
"Elladan, watch your siblings!" She gave him a pointed glare (half wondering if she should leave Arwen in charge) before turning.
Hesitantly she crossed the lawn, looking at the young elf. He had to be only a few years younger than Elladan and Elrohir and the thought made her want to cry.
He didn't notice her approach as he sat leaning against the stone wall, both feet up on the bench and turned to the side. His eyes were wide open, staring off into some faraway point. She stopped in front of him, unsure of how to proceed.
"Legolas?" She asked softly. The young elf didn't respond, his gaze remaining fixed ahead. His long hair was loose and tangled, enhancing the ragged look on his face. "Legolas?" she tried again, lowering her voice as she moved to crouch before him.
Legolas jumped, his eyes flying around as he realized that someone was talking to him.
"Nana—Sorry. Who?" he asked choppily. His eyes locked on Celebraín's and their blue depths were swimming.
"No, young one. I am Celebraín from Imladris." She stayed in her kneeling position, looking at him. Legolas shook his head, raising a shaking arm to press against his face.
"Sorry, I know who you are. It…" he trailed, off slumping back against the wall. Celebraín watched him for a second, her eyes warm. "Can I sit down?" she asked slowly. Legolas nodded sluggishly and shifted his legs. She rose gracefully, sitting close enough that they were almost touching. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, she watched him take a quivering breath and lean forward. He rested his head against clenched fists, his leg beginning to pump and down nervously.
"The sky is a pretty shade of blue," she remarked softly, but Legolas didn't appear to hear her. Reaching out, she gently pried one of Legolas' hands free and wound her fingers through his. "It's going to get better, I promise," she whispered. Legolas only shook his head, apparently unable to speak.
"I know you don't want to hear this right now, but I liked your mother very much. She always made me laugh." Celebraín smiled, beginning to run her other hand through his hair and working out the tangles. "She could fluster your father like no one else and she most certainly did not fear his temper." Legolas took a deep breath, still not looking at her. "One time, your parents came to Imladris, long before you or the twins had been born. I think it was shortly after they were married. Anyway, and it was clear that she was…uncomfortable with all the formalities and didn't like the politics side of things."
Celebraín laughed, remembering the look on Thranduil's face when his wife had stood up in the midst of dinner and declared that there had been enough cold and diplomatic talk. His embarrassment had only been furthered when she stated that they should all dance and sing the night away.
"By the end of the night, we had come no closer to any sort of political agreements, but we had the times of our lives that night. There was much laughter, dancing, and…well, just a little bit of wine," she added the last part in a conspiratorial whisper. "No longer were we the wives of the Crown Prince of Greenwood and Lord of Imladris, just two young newly-wed couples. I shall forever remember that night."
She stopped, unsure of what else to say.
"NANA!" Arwen's shriek brought Celebraín's attention around and she looked up, giving time for Legolas to hurriedly press the back of his hand against his eyes. Arwen came running towards them, her short little legs pumping hard as Elladan and Elrohir sprinted after her.
"They are making fun of me!" she was wailing. "They called me—"
"No! No, we weren't! You can't believe anything she said!" Elrohir was protesting just as loudly before the twins saw who their mother was talking to. Elladan elbowed Elrohir quickly, but it was unneeded.
"Sorry, Nana." They both said sheepishly, casting sideways glances over at the prince. Legolas didn't look up at them, his head lowering as he let his hair shield him from view. Elladan opened his mouth, before shutting it again, glancing at his mother for help. She wasn't offering any.
"Come, Arwen," he said awkwardly, tugging on his little sister's hand.
"BUT I DON'T WANT TO GO WITH YOU!" Arwen wailed, wrapping her arms around her mother as Elrohir and Elladan flinched, glancing again at Legolas who had begun his nervous shaking again. "You both are mean to me."
Celebraín gave a short sigh, frowning at the twins but when she spoke her voice was gentle. "I thought you would be with your father, Legolas. We didn't know anyone else would be in the gardens, we are sorry that we disturbed you." Elladan and Elrohir caught her eye and she nodded at them. "Would it be alright if Elladan and Elrohir stay here while I take Arwen inside?"
Legolas nodded once, his eyes turning glassy again. Celebraín watched him for a second, seeing the twins sit down on either side of him. They didn't say anything, but maybe they didn't need too.
OURDARKESTHOUR
Thranduil's hand hovered over the doorknob, but he couldn't bring himself to open the door. She was waiting for him on the other side, or at least as close to her as he was ever going to get again. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head against the door frame as a sudden wave of exhaustion sapped his already waning strength. He couldn't do it. He couldn't enter the room.
Sliding down to lean against the sturdy frame, he cradled his head in his hands. He almost wished that he could cry, but all emotion and life seemed to have departed out of him and even the most basic emotion he could not produce. Crying was a baby's first action upon entering the world, yet here he was unable to get the tears to come.
Legolas apparently hadn't had that problem. He could hear the quiet gasps from here and once again he was reminded of how much like his mother the boy was. She had never been as proud or haughty as he, and oh, how he had loved her for it.
Legolas…he was the only thing that Thranduil had left, but he could hardly bear to look at him, his own flesh and blood. Legolas had her eyes and the way his lips were always ready to smile…if Legolas' laugh ever rang through these forsaken halls then it would forever haunt Thranduil. There was too much of her in it, he would forever be checking around the corner to see her smiling face.
Pressing his lips together, he clenched his fist until the nails were cutting painfully into his palms.
Legolas was also the only reason that he wouldn't leave to join his own mother and in-laws across the shores. The boy did not deserve to leave yet, he had a full life ahead of him with an unknown destiny... but Thranduil didn't know how he was going to survive simply looking at him.
Sometime before the sun rose, the barely discernable sobs faded and Thranduil slowly rose to his feet, swaying lightly. Maybe, if he hadn't known better, he would have attributed it to sitting on the floor for the better part of the night, but he did know better. His hand once against rested on the doorknob and memory of doing just this with his wife only a few weeks early hit him hard.
They had been laughing, her arms had been around his waist and they thought they had all the time in the world.
Flinching, he was turning to go back to his own rooms when he thought better of it. Taking a deep breath, he eased the door open. Heart pounding in his chest, he forced his feet to move and not look or touch anything, fearful that more memories would well up.
Legolas was curled up on his bed, still fully dressed. His cheeks glistened with drying tears and his eyes were closed in sleep. Thranduil felt a flash of fear, but the boy's chest was raising and falling shakily. He still lived.
Thranduil had no idea how he was going to get through tomorrow. Closing his eyes, he felt his knees give way under the weight of what he bore and he sank down. Kneeling next to his son, he bowed his head. Legolas needed him right now more than he ever had before, yet all Thranduil could do was curl up in a corner. He was not fit to be the father that Legolas would need in the coming years.
He was failing her, the one whom he had promised to never fail.
Legolas didn't stir when he laid a hand across his head. The young elf was cold to the touch and the fear touched Thranduil's heart again as he began to tuck the blankets around him. If he lost Legolas, the only thing he had left…
The thought left him trembling and he stumbled out of the room and towards his own.
OURDARKESTHOUR
The next morning was bright and beautiful but neither of the royal family could be found. The kitchens started early, preparing the feast that would be held after the funeral later that night but no joyful laughter filled the air and no mirthful song was sung. Elves wandered meaningless in the hallways, some crying and the occasional one raising their voice in haunting, mournful tunes that praised their queen.
Feeling slightly like outsiders, the group from Imladris had spent most of the day in their rooms. Gandalf joined them late in the afternoon.
"Have either of you seen Thranduil?" he asked gruffly, sitting down at a polished wooden table and pouring himself a tumbler of wine. He sighed, rubbing at his face. Celebraín shook her head, her hands full of Arwen's silky dark hair as she twisted it into an elaborate braid. The small girl shifted, wincing and squeaking as her mother's hands pulled the hair too tight.
"Nana!" she protested, her hands flying up and Celebraín eased her grip slightly.
"Have you seen Legolas?" she asked evenly and Gandalf nodded.
"The poor child doesn't know what to do with himself and Thranduil has been in no shape to take care of him." He paused, glancing around. "I fear for the royal family of Greenwood. I fear for Greenwood herself"
Elrond looked up sharply from across the room where he was trying to convince Elladan that he had to wear the admittedly uncomfortable, but formal, robes.
"Greenwood the Great is strong. They have been strong from the beginning. What do you fear?" He asked, his hand tightening on Elladan's shoulder before he could escape, forgotten.
Gandalf nodded, searching his pockets for something. He pulled out his pipe and had a match struck before seeing Celebraín's disapproving look. Stuffing it away, he muttered something about tolerance before answering Elrond's question.
"Evil has crept into the borders of Greenwood. The elves are strong, but I fear that this may be stronger," he admitted. "Don't go wasting your breath asking me what I mean, I'm not sure myself. I need to do a little more searching, but if it is who…" He trailed off, sighing. "Only now do I understand why Thranduil was blessed with such a healthy amount of stubbornness. Darkness will find it hard to thwart him, if he survives today that is." He paused, his busy eyebrows jutting out as he thought. "Elrond," he ordered suddenly, "kept the alliances up with Greenwood. They may need you before this is over."
Elrond nodded, pushing Elrohir gently into the next room with the stern reprimand to, "Put it on! I don't want to hear any more complaints!" before giving his full attention to Gandalf.
"We will be there when Greenwood calls," he assured. "Thranduil and I might have our differences but we would never abandon them."
Celebraín finished Arwen's hair and she jumped up, running to Gandalf's side and tugging at his sleeve. "Mithrandir!" she giggled, "Mithrandir!"
"And what do you want, child?" Gandalf looked down in surprise, arching an eyebrow. She held out her arms to him and the old wizard pulled her up into his lap.
"Can you make smoke shapes? Can you make the boat that sails around the room?" she asked eagerly, laughing as she bounced up and down. Gandalf smiled, holding a finger up to his lips.
"I thought that was our little secret," he chided easily ignoring Elrond's glare. The elves lack of approval for smoking, he would never understand. "But maybe a story would suffice instead. That way your parents can prepare. Glorfindel!" the old wizard called and the other elf appeared out of seemingly now where already dressed for the funeral.
"Would you go check on Legolas? And then Thranduil? I don't think that either should be alone right now. Especially Legolas, he is only a child for Valar's sake!" he requested. The old elf bowed his head and left without hesitation. "Elladan, Elrohir! Get yourself over here if you want to hear the story. It is now or never!"
The twins appeared, (Elladan's robes on, though the buttons were crooked) bouncing eagerly and Gandalf momentarily wondered why he was doing this until Celebraín offered him a relieved smile. So with Arwen on his lap and the twins sitting at his knees, the old wizard began his tale.
It wasn't long until the deep booming horns began to echo hauntingly, calling the elves to their places. They shuffled along, the twins bickering constantly until they were reached the place of honor directly for foreign dignitaries next to where Thranduil would stand. The king wasn't to be seen, but the other elves didn't appear concerned so they weren't either. Gandalf stood there next to them, his head bowed and his staff clutched in his hand. The weight of his many years appeared to press down on him when Glorfindel reappeared; he spared a moment to pat the wizard on the back.
Gandalf straightened, his question clear in his eyes. Glorfindel only nodded.
The last of the sunlight disappeared behind the treetops and the stars that the elves loved so much began to peak out from behind wispy clouds.
Slowly, from down the long line of elves, a song began. It was an eerie, haunting melody and slowly the Imladris elves picked it up, bowing their heads. The funeral procession made its way down the long lines and the song continued. Candles were brought to life around them and they each raised their own lights high. Arwen tightened her grip on her mother's hand, clearly not quite understand all that was happening.
The craft carrying the queen's body made its way down the road, Thranduil and Legolas trailing after it. No one would have been any the wiser that mere hours before both had hardly been able to leave their rooms. Their heads were held high and Thranduil's famous stubbornness was clear in Legolas as he locked eyes with Celebraín and then Glorfindel proudly.
Slowly, the night continued to darken as songs were song of the beauty, grace, and skill of the queen. Thranduil and Legolas stood rigidly, their voices loud and clear amongst the others, but when it came time to lay the queen in her final resting spot, Thranduil wavered.
The candles illuminated the harsh lines on his pale face as he staggered where he stood.
Elrond shifted forward, moving silently past Gandalf and Elladan to stand almost directly next to the king. His face was determined and his hands outstretched towards the king, ready to make the leap forward in case Thranduil did fall.
However, another set of hand caught the king. Legolas reached out, finding his father and blindly they linked hands. Even from here, Elrond could see the white strain on flesh as they clutched each other closer, and Elrond relaxed slightly. He wasn't sure who was supporting who, but it kept both the prince and the king standing until the Queen had vanished from mortal sight.
SKIPPINGTOTHEFEAST
The feast was nothing like the funeral. It was a celebration of life and new joys and Thranduil hated it. How the world kept on turning when his had so abruptly stopped was frustrating.
Thranduil stayed just long enough to finish the celebration toast to the queen, drinking in her honor, before quietly slipping out. Multiple pairs of eyes followed him, but he did not care. He needed to be alone and, well, Legolas had slipped out long ago looking more than a little overwhelmed.
Legolas wasn't going to fade, Thranduil was determined of that. He was not going to attend another funeral, not again and he most certainly wasn't going to attend a party in the celebration of Legolas' short life. No, he was going to make things right.
The young elfling wasn't in his room, nor was he in the gardens and at last, Thranduil returned to his own rooms both defeated and exhausted. He paused as he opened the door, feeling the familiar scents wash over him. She stood staring down at him from the painting and Thranduil stared back.
Take care of my son. Take care of yourself, the eyes seemed to say, and Thranduil nodded meekly. She was the only one who had even been able to order him around so, and he didn't doubt that that was going to change anytime soon. His heart gave a nasty throb and for a moment his grief was so heavy that he could not continue on.
At least he stumbled into the bedroom and found, to his shock, Legolas. The younger elf was curled up on the bed, clutching something to his chest.
"It smells like Nana." Legolas' whisper cut through the air like a knife and Thranduil couldn't help the painful intake of air. Legolas was gripping the old blanket that he used to love as a toddler. It was frayed in many places and worn through, but his wife couldn't bear to throw it away after Legolas had outgrown it. She had treasured it, folding it and putting away in some chest only to take it out and look at it occasionally. Legolas breathed in deeply, clutching it close to his chest.
"Ada…" Thranduil still was unable to move as Legolas curled into a smaller ball. "Ada, why did she leave us? Why did she leave us here all alone?" The boy's voice cracked and though he was clearly trying very hard not to, a tear slipped down his face. Thranduil's own throat seized up, but he wouldn't cry, not right now, not in front of Legolas.
Moving slowly, he sat down on his side of the bed. He had switched pillows for the same reason that Legolas was clutching his old blanket. It reminded him of her.
"Lego—" He had to stop and clear his throat and for a minute he couldn't continue. "Legolas, I—I don't know why she had to leave. I don't know why." He lay back on the bed, watching Legolas' shoulders rise and fall unevenly. He wanted to reach out, to clutch him close to his heart and never let him go. He wanted to tell Legolas that it would all be alright, he wanted so many things but instead he just awkwardly laid his hand over Legolas' shoulder, squeezing tightly.
Legolas let out a stifled sob.
"She's not coming back is she?" he asked and Thranduil shook his head.
"No, not right now but—" he floundered, wondering what she would have said in this situation and trying to remember what she had told him when his father had died. "But she hasn't left us. She is still here."
Legolas laughed sarcastically around his hitching breaths and Thranduil scouted over until Legolas was pressed against him. Reaching over the lithe body, he pressed his hand against Legolas' heart.
"She's right there. As long as you remember her, she will always be there for you," he whispered. His own heart gave a painful twinge and he sucked in a deep breath, pushing back the tears firmly. Legolas was now gripping the blanket so tight that his fingers had turned white.
"What if I forget her?" The question left Legolas' lips before he could take it back and Thranduil paused, his mouth opening and shutting. "I mean, what if—what happens when I forget her smile, or-or the stories she uses to tell me when I was little or the one time that she—" his voice broke and Thranduil pressed a finger against his lips, his own quivering. There was so much that Legolas didn't know about his mother, some much he had not seen and he feared that the little that he did remember would dim with time.
"I won't ever let you forget her," he replied ferociously, glancing back towards the painting.
"What if you die, Ada?" Legolas next question caught him off guard and Thranduil opened and shut his mouth for a minute, unsure of what to say. I'm not going to die seemed a little too ridiculous to say when they had been both been so horrible awoken to how false those words could be.
"Then I will be there for you too," he finally settled on, lighting patting Legolas chest. "Right there, with nana, looking out for you."
This answer did not seem to comfort Legolas at all and he turned around, tears now falling freely down his face. "Don't leave me, Ada," he whispered in a terrified voice. "Don't leave me, please, don't leave me." Thranduil's breath caught in his throat and he allowed Legolas to wrap his arm around him.
"I'm not going anywhere, not right now." He bowed his head, letting his face rest against Legolas' hair. "I'm not going to leave you alone, I promise." The vow was said before he could think better of it and the white boat that his heart was yearning for slipped to the edge of his mind. It would have to wait, wait until Legolas was grown. Wait for who knew who long, but that is what she would have wished.
Thranduil choked out a laugh. "Besides," he whispered as he watched that boat sail away in his mind's eyes. "I don't think that she would want me back if I left you here. She'd order me back and then scold me the whole way back as she marching me here by the tips of my ears."
Legolas half sobbed, half laughed and Thranduil followed suit.
"You know that she loved you very much, right, Legolas?" Legolas nodded, hiccupping into the silence. His whole body quivered with the force of his emotions and Thranduil realized abruptly that he was crying as well. He didn't know when or how it had happened but it happened.
"And you know that I love you too?" he got out in a strangled voice. Legolas again nodded and Thranduil felt a flood of relief that there was no hesitation there.
"I love you, too Ada," Legolas whispered as he buried his face into the crook of Thranduil's neck. Thranduil couldn't find the words to say after that. Slowly, he simply began to rock Legolas, their hands finding each other's again and once again Thranduil didn't know who was holding onto whom.
At some point in the long night, Legolas drifted off to sleep. Dried tears were crusted onto his face and his breaths were shaky, but his eyes were open. Exhausted though he was, Thranduil could not follow suit. Carefully rearranging Legolas' old blanket around the boy's shoulders, Thranduil simply lay there, watching the sunrise over the head of his most beloved yet most painful reminder of what once was his.
Somehow, he knew that this was just the beginning. The nightmares, the anger, and overwhelming grief would continue to haunt their footsteps for years to come but Legolas was all he had left. Together, they would face this strange new world they had been so rudely thrust into because if they didn't do it side by side, Thranduil was sure that he would break into a hundred different pieces that not even Elrond would be able to put back together.
THE END
A/N Well there it is folks! I don't know what is coming next or when it might be coming. Hopefully sooner than this one did... but let me know in reviews what you might like to see! Or just what you thought of this one. Thanks for reading and I hope that you enjoyed!